Why Me?
by AHumanLady
Summary: Lovino never expected his quiet night would end with him hiding under a table with a strange man. A man with blood covering his hands. Or that this bloody, curly haired stranger would currently be sitting on top of him. All Lovino expected was that he would show up to Kirkland's pub, down a glass of red, and head home. But of course that wasn't going to happen. Fuck it all.
1. Chapter 1

**Heyo! Here's the first chapter of my new spamano story! Hope you enjoy!**

Lovino never expected his quiet night would end with him hiding under a table with a strange man. A man with blood covering his hands. Or that this bloody, curly haired stranger would currently be sitting on top of him. All Lovino expected was that he would show up to Kirkland's pub, down a glass of red, and head home. But of course that wasn't going to happen. Fuck it all.

He swirled the merlot around the glass, watching as a small whirlpool formed. The lazy action was hypnotizing and a welcomed distraction.

"So I get home, and the damn potato bastard is standing in his boxers! And of course Feliciano screams and lets go of the damn pigeon... I hope I never relive that," Lovino huffed, placing the glass down with a soft clink. Arthur Kirkland, the bar keep and the closest thing one could call a friend, nodded in agreement as he polished the counter with an old rag. The dim lights bounced off the shiny surface.

"I understand. After the goat incident," he shivered at the memory, "I'll never be able to watch Sherlock without remembering Alfred-" Arthur was interrupted by a large crash as two men pushed up against the bar. They were throwing vicious punches while screaming in what sounded like turkish. The whole pub was yelling at this point, a few picking up stools and various glassware.

"Bollocks! Everyone settle down! Settle down! Bloody hell!" Kirkland's futile attempt as calming everyone down was drowned out by the curses. Someone was thrown into my back and suddenly I wasn't on the wooden bar stool. No, my ass was on the floor, wine covering my shirt, glass shards scattered on the ground in a halo. My drink must've been swept off the counter. _Damnit that was expensive!_ A scowl played across my features. _Fuck this. Fuck them._ Gripping the counter I pulled myself up. Taking great care in avoiding the glass shards. _Now where's that bastard?_

"YOU BLOODY FROG PUT THAT CHAIR DOWN!" Arthur shouted from across the room. I turned towards his voice, ready to throw a punch. A blonde, fairly drunk man was standing on a table a few feet away. A chair was held high above his head, making him fairly unbalanced. He too turned towards the fuming english man, but the quick movement sent the chair and man crashing to the ground. _No, towards me!_ Before I could move, or scream, or flail, I was dragged to the side, landing on my ass for the second time tonight. _Fuck!_ A figure scrambled in front of me, pressing my frame into the wall under a table.

"Get the FUCK OFF ME BASTARD!" I shrieked, kicking out at the man. He turned and my complaints quickly dissipated. The first thing I noticed were his chocolate brown curls matted with sweat dangling in front of piercing green eyes. Brighter than Kirkland's. Down a little farther was a strong nose that I imagined curved nicely if it wasn't rapidly swelling and covered in blood.

"Hola! Sorry about Françis there, I'll introduce you once he's not drunk sometime!" The man smiled a wide smile, laughter filling his eyes. He wiped a bloody hand down his pant leg and held it out.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo. And you, my handsome amigo?" I was completely flustered, cheeks growing warmer by the second. So without thinking I did the stupidest thing I've ever done.

"Lovino, what's it to you bastard?"

His smile grew even wider.

 **TADA! Please leave me your opinion, what would you change, what do you want to happen? All the good stuff.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we go, the second chapter. Make sure you check the authors note of the last chapter because I updated it with some info. Get ready for some stubborn Lovi and resliiant Antonio! My goodness they are my OTP. Thank you to all those who left kind words and are following the story. It really motivated me to put this out quickly. Keep a lookout for the halloween fic that will be out tomorrow!**

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The police showed up, arrested those involved, questioned witnesses, and finally let said witnesses go home after a few hours. An ambulance arrived as well to treat the injuries sustained during the brawl. Arthur was pretty distraught but Officer Jones, one of the responders, insisted that everyone should get some rest and recover.

"Arthur, are you sure you're okay? I can stay with you," I suggested, shifting nervously. This whole friendship thing was still new to me. You did this for friends right? The Brit shook his head.

"Thank you but I'll be fine. I need to talk with the officers about the legal aspect. As for clean up, only a few chairs and bottles were broken." He smiled reassuringly at me, "You really should go home, It's been a long night." We shared a more than awkward but slightly pleasant hug as we said goodnight. Hands in the pockets of my fitted jacket, head towards the ground avoiding all eye contact, I began my walk home. The apartment was only four blocks away but the distance seemed daunting at the late hour. Steps rounded the corner, a slow stroll, footsteps sounding out softly. They suddenly broke the even pace and sped up.

"Lovi! Wait for me!"

Antonio.

The damn spaniard.

God, do you hate me?

Head staring straight down, my slow stroll picked up into a brisk walk. His pace increased as well, pretty much a job behind me.

"Lovi, it's Antonio! Hey! Don't worry I'm not some stranger! Looooviiinnoooo!" The footsteps were no longer sounding from behind. Instead Antonio's strong figure had loomed into my vision as he kept the quick pace.

"You are some stranger, leave me alone," I huffed, lifting my gaze to scowl at this idiota. It almost broke once I caught sight of the blinding smile Antonio was sporting.

Wait, why the fuck is there still blood all over his face?

"Aw Lovi, don't say th-"

"Why the fuck is there still blood on your face?" I interrupted. He looked confused as his hand lifted up. When he noticed the red smear over his fingertips, understanding wash over his handso- average, uninteresting features.

"Oh! I got punched in the face!" I rolled my eyes at his enthusiasm.

"I guessed that. Why didn't the medics clean you up? Or give you ice at least. It could be broken."

"I didn't go to the medics," He replied easily, as if refusing medical attention when injured was the common decision.

"What do you mean! Did you really not get medical attention after getting a blow to the face!" I screeched, searching his face for a joking smirk. All I found was the same oblivious smile that had been on all night. "No of course not, you're Antonio." He nodded his head so eagerly that I feared for the few remaining brain cells.

"Other people needed it more, that greek guy broke a chair over the Turk's head!" Rolling my eyes I turned forwards once more. The red brick of mine and Feliciano's apartment loomed ahead.

I'm going to fucking regret this.

"Come on, I'll give you so ice you idiot." Antonio practically started skipping in his excitement.

"Thank you Lovi! Oh you are so sweet! My lovely Lovi!" He sang, breaking the night's silence with his clear voice. His voice danced down the street, his smile clung to every syllable, chasing away the darkness between street lamps.

Who does he think he is, the fucking sun?

I unlock the door and carefully push it open, flicking the lights on. We both blink at the sudden brightness. An elegant chandelier illuminates the foyer, showcasing the equally elegant furnishings.

"Wow… this place is amazing," Antonio whispered, his eyes were round as he scanned the open space.

What can I say, I do well.

"Just come over here so I can help you." I gesture nonchalantly to the stools lined up at the counter while reaching into the freezer, putting together a bag of ice. Antonio scrambles over to the perch with a dazed look, still admiring the nicely decorated space. As gracefully as someone can, I plop down onto the adjacent stool. He automatically leans forward, green eyes full of excitement, like a child. Flustered, I shove the bag forcefully into his lap.

"Gracias!" His signature smile returns.

Does he only have two faces?

"You still have blood on your face… I can't send you on the streets looking like a cannibal," I mumble, reaching for a towel and wetting it in the sink on the other side of the marble island. HIs smile changes, less of that dopey 'I shit rainbows' smile, it's softer, more… intimate. With shaky hands I reach up with the cloth, gingerly wiping away the dried blood. He grimaces as my hands work their way over the purple bruises.

"Sorry," I whisper, actually sorry for the discomfort that I'm causing. His plump lips just curve upwards and his eyes twinkle.

Fucking twinkle.

His face is a lot different up close… and when not covered in blood. The brilliant green of his eyes are ten times more hypnotic this close. They slant up at the corners in a permanent smile. Think chocolate lashes match his arched brows and curled hair. Little freckles dust across his pronounced cheek bones that slope down to a defined jaw line. The white teeth of his bright smile are almost straight, and the rosy lips that frame them are round. His skin is soft and supple when my hand brushes against it, a smooth caramel color.

DAMN he's hot! Fine, I'll admit it, he's fucking attractive.

Antonio is saying something, I gulp, and pull away, straining to pick up his words.

"Honestly, thank you so much. I hope I get to see you again. If you wouldn't mind! I seem like a stalker, running after you down the street and sitting in your lovely home." He's talking a mile a minute, rivaling Feliciano's speed.

"It's fine. The bloods off," I glance at the clock, "Besides it's almost two am, you should go home." Antonio's eye widen

.

"I have work tomorrow! Thank you! Bye! Thanks! Wait I need my coat! Okay! Bye Lovi!" He rushes around the apartment and ends up at the door. I stroll over, standing under the archway.

"Goodnight Antonio." The smile he sends my way makes my toes tingle.

"Goodnight Lovino."

I close the door with a soft clink and glide around the room, cleaning up all evidence of Antonio's visit. My feet don't make sounds as I creep up the stairs past Feliciano's room. Feli has always been a deep sleeper. Too exhausted to care, my button up and slacks crumple to the floor as I don pajamas. Delicate silk sheets caress my tired body but they feel like a thousand pounds. Everything is a weight on my chest, interrupting my breathing. Sleep doesn't find me for hours, when it does, it's restless and brief.

Work the next day is tedious. All that goes through my brain is Antonio's smile.

Dumb Lovino, falling for a stranger. You didn't even get his number. No way he's not dating anyone. God damnit.

My shoulders slump walking up the stairs to the apartment, the bitter wind nips at my cheeks, chilling to the bone. The sound of the door slamming echos around, announcing that Lovino fucking Vargas has arrived. Feliciano skips out of the kitchen, bottle of wine in one hand and a sauce covered spoon in the other. His face is flushed from the stove's heat.

"Lovino!" We eat dinner, pasta with bolognese sauce, with Feli's bubbly voice filling the room. He asks about my day and accepts each grunt as if it was an award. Slowly, the stress and weight of the day slide off my shoulders.

"Oh Lovi! I almost forgot! Someone left you some flowers! I put them up in your room!" Feliciano practically sang. He smiled a sly smile, "Does Lovi have a secret admirer?" I sputtered, growing red and flustered.

"No! Of course not! I'll go throw them out right now! They're probably a… a… a bomb!" With that, I hop off the stool and race up the stairs, sliding around the corners. I enter my bedroom with a crash. A lilac pot perched on the window sill holds some soil and a few unknown flowers. Marching over to examine them, I whip out my phone, typing in white 6 petaled flower. Two thick stems protrude from the dark soil. Dozens of small white flowers adorning the green stalks. A few blossoms have pink freckles dusting their delicate petals. Scrolling through google I click on an image of similar flowers. Hyacinth. The link describes their importance in greek mythology or something, explaining that white means Loveliness.

That asshole probably thinks its funny. Lovely Lovi.

Next to the small pot is a pristine envelope, black ink spelling out Lovino Vargas in messy scrawl. A little heart dots the I. Gingerly, I tear open the envelope, avoiding the label.

Dear Lovino!

It's Antonio! You know, that guy you helped last night! Don't worry, I'M NOT A STALKER. :D Your door says Vargas on it so I googled you. Hehe, your facebook is pretty cute. Anyways, I bought you some flowers as a thank you, make sure you water them! The lady at the flower shop said they mean loveliness. Isn't that funny? Lovely Lovi!:D They're really pretty so I got them. I hope you get this. If you're not Lovi, please return to Lovi. This is my number, XXX-XXX-XXXX, you can call me anytime. :)

-Antonio

That fucking idiot. I'm not calling him.

I reach to grab the flowers but stop, They're really pretty, and their perfume is equiset. I guess they can stay, only because I like them, not Antonio. Tucking the parchment under the pot I observe the gift. Pinks and oranges paint the setting sky behind the flowers, bathing the room in soft light. It's almost nice.

But i'm not calling to thank him.

No, not happening.

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 **OH MY GOD JUST CALL HIM LOVINO. Is anyone else frustrated with him? Just so you know, the language of flowers is my favorite thing in fanfiction. Thank you so much for reading and supporting this story. Im so excited to keep writing it! Let me know what you think :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Trigger Warning!**

 **Important note at bottom**

Everything was numb. Even the scalding water did not register through my submerged body, it was merely a tingle compared to the overwhelming nothingness. Taking in a breath, I duck my head under water, relishing in the feeling of escape. Auburn tendril floating up towards the surface, a trail towards reality. Bubbles follow the path up, disappearing into whiteness the farther they float. I close my eyes in order to block out the harsh lights glowing from the ceiling. It's the moment where your body panics slightly. Air has run out and instinct kicks in, Go up! It calls. The rapidly thumping heart, pumping blood frantically, trying to save the body is the only reminder that I am a human. I live, I endure, I am. Water splashes as I break the surface in a rush, breathing heavily. Lightheaded and dizzy, I stumble out of the bathroom to get dressed. A full pill bottle staring me down from the nightstand.

"Lovi, you've been in bed since Thursday. Have you been taking your medicine?" Feli's voice is soft with worry. His hand resting gently on my back as he dips down to whisper by my ear. Feliciano pauses momentarily to reach for a nearby glass and pill bottle. I swallow the little white capsule without water.

The bed is warm. I pull the covers up farther, creating a cavern of solitude. His feet glide over the carpet and down the stairs. Sleep envelops me into a dark hug, dragging down heavily.

"Want to go get drunk?"

"Who is this?" His dumb voice inquires.

"Lovino," I reply curtly, annoyed at his obvious lack of intelligence.

"Lovino! You finally called! I was worried I'd missed out on a cutie!" Antonio chirps.

"Kirkland's in twenty?"

"Sure Lovi! Do you need me to pick you up? I have a car."

"I'll walk." I end the call with a click.

Expensive cologne, fitted pants, Italian loafers, styled hair, no coat, and no self respect, I walk through the door, enjoying the biting cold. A sharp breeze acts like a seductress, dancing along through the night, caressing my exposed skin with cruel precision.

Kirkland's dimly lit bar gets blurrier with each glass of wine, bitter against my lips. Antonio's laughs get huskier with every sip of his sangria. Pure sunshine, brightening up the whole establishment. His hand rests on my thigh, my smirk turning sloppy. After a few hours, Antonio suggests we leave, Arthur shoots me a glare as I enthusiastically tug on the spaniard, eager for the night to continue in a less public place. I flip him off when he opens his mouth. We stumbled down the street to his car, correction, a very drunk Lovino leans against a very handsome, steady, surprisingly sober, Antonio, as they make their way to a shitty silver vehicle that doesn't look exactly road safe.

"This was a great night, thanks for calling. I'd love to see you again, maybe a.." He swallows, adam's apple bobbing, "maybe we could have dinner?" He rubs the back of his neck. My only response is a nod, Antonios smiles at that, "Great! Oh, sorry Lovino, I forget your address, where to?" Antonio laughs, buckling himself in. My lips curl into a shark like smile as I lean against the seat belt that was magically secured. Fingers toying with his shirt collar I practically purr,

"I was hoping I'd be the one asking for your address tonight." Surprise filters across his features.

"Lovino, I need to take you home. Poplar street was it?" I lean closer, grazing teeth against his ear.

"C'mon, let's go to your place. I don't want to interrupt my brother." I whisper, tonguing his soft lobe. Upon closer inspection, it seems to have been pierced once.

 _He probably looks sexy with an earring, like a pirate._

"Lovino, no, you drank a lot, let's go back to your house." He is growing flustered, like his resolve is being broken. The seat belt slides off easily as I move of the center console. His cheeks are burning bright, with desire? Or nervousness?

"Antonio..." I breathe, pressing my lips into his, testing out my theory. His lips are burning, a welcome heat compared to the cold that shrouds me in numbness. Antonio stays frozen. I bite his lip gently trying to elicit a reaction but the dumb spanish man just pulls back farther into his worn headrest.

"Fuck you," I hiss, narrowing my eyes at his emerald ones. Our noses are barely brushing. In a huff, I throw the door open and crawl out of his shitty car. Antonio scrambles after me, clawing at my wrist.

"Lovino! Please let me drive you home!"

I half run, half fall down the sidewalk, ignoring his pleas. The apartment is looming ahead when I realize his shitty silver Ford is creeping down the road parallel to me.

Feliciano doesn't comment on my disheveled appearance as I escape upstairs. He doesn't call up when I scream into my pillow, or when the terra cotta flower pot shatters against the wall, soil staining the white carpet. He just knocks on the door fifteen minutes later with a trashy movie and bowl of linguini.

Antonio calls seven times, but I delete his messages without listening, cutting my skin on the cracked screen. You'd think a phone case advertised as being able to protect against a twenty foot fall wouldn't fail when thrown against a wall.

Grandpa doesn't let me come in for work until Wednesday.

 **Sorry guys, I didn't mean to leave this story without an update for a month. Just life I suppose. Thanks for the support though!:) So you might be wondering 'What the hell just happened?" Well, I've got answers! Lovino is depressed, every person suffers differently. In Lovi's and my case, (Wow, shocker, I'm self projecting. But its the only way I can write anything so take what you can get) when a bout of depression hits, he feels emotionally numb. In response, he goes through self destructive actions, such as self sabotage. (There will never be self harm, the way he copes is different from that) It seems like Lovino's outlet is physical/sexual activities. (I write as an outlet) His way of dealing with this is obviously not healthy. Don't worry Spamano shippers! This is not their relationship, it will progress, Antonio is too stubborn. Hopefully there will be around two updates by the new year. Maybe longer ones, I write shorter because I want to focus on small decisions in the moment, rather than the whole of the story. This also makes each chapter disjointed from the rest because it's about a moment, not details. The story is a bunch of singular events that build up in my mind.**


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